A/N: I apologize in advance if there are any errors that I missed. I'm running on no sleep after taking a red eye to Mexico City and am now trying to upload this while I wait for my next flight. My eyes are so blurry. Anyways, hope that you've had more sleep than me and that you enjoy this new chapter!
Semour2k: Thanks for the welcome back! Glad you're enjoying the story :) Let me know what you think of this chapter!
Chapter 11:
Protego
Cause' it feels so frightening
My chest starts tightening
Hits me like a bolt of lightning
No, I've tried, I can't fight it off
I've started shaking
With every move I'm making
And every breath I'm taking
And now I'm breaking down in your arms.
Now I'm in the dark sleeping as I walk
Don't leave me behind
Now I feel the cold cut right to my bones
I'm shivering inside.
Next to You - Of Rust & Bone
Shadows slowly crept along the hall behind her, clinging to the walls like stiff silk curtains; yet they were always in her peripheries, disappearing when she tried to look at them straight on. As she moved forward, soft whispers seeped from the stones beneath her feet, each voice burrowing into her bare skin, piercing her, using her to rise ever higher until they filled the space. Until she was no more than a ladder of flesh and bone and blood in a hissing sea of cruel whispers. The shadows, emboldened, slunk further along the corridor, merging into infinite obsidian at the end of the hall. The swirling black mist beckoned to Clarke, its song more welcome than even one of those the harsh, echoing voices.
One foot stepped in front of the other though not of her own volition; her limbs felt disembodied, sentient, and each stiff step brought her closer, closer, closer. A sharp, pinpoint of heat in her chest grew until it became almost unbearable. The feeling - the burning heat - did not originate inside of her, but it became a part of her.
The black mist towered above her, an endless void to a voidless end. Her hand floated towards that dark siren as if magnetized and with one singular finger she pierced the darkness before her…
As her hand reached forward, the inky black shadows adhered to her skin, sweeping along every surface until she was no more than smoke and shadow. She could not breathe. She could not think. She could only feel the invasive, foreign intrusion of her body. The whispers echoed painfully as they reached their highest decibel. Her hands clamped over her ears as a scream tried to claw its way from her throat only to choke on shadows in silent agony.
Clarke crumpled to the ground, the shadow-skin sloughing off onto the flagstones like deceased flesh. She gasped and coughed as air flooded her deprived lungs, one hand braced against the cold stones for support. The black pool that had once coated her skin glinted before her in the light of the icy torches, reflecting her own image back to her: eyes as dark as midnight, hair as light as the sun, and a face pale…too pale. A ripple spread over the opaque surface and in its wake her reflection transformed into the face of another.
A broken sob escaped her throat, audible this time, and the desperation in it cracked like a whip against the walls. The rippling pool shivered and took shape, rising off the ground like a spectre.
"Dad?" The stilted word fell from her mouth like ash, like the ash which he had become.
The figure knelt down and his eyes were as black as night, as black as the eyes she had seen reflected back to her. No, no, no!
This was not her father. This was the animal of her grief made manifest and stripped bare, just as she now was. The spectre tried to reach for her, but Clarke scrambled back. Away from this ghost. Away from everything she feared. Away from the emptiness inside her.
She screamed as its shadowed hands clamped around her ankle and tugged, dragging her towards the blackness it was fast becoming. Clarke reached out for anything, any crevice in the stone. But she was no match for this beast and with a final tug, it pulled her into the oozing pool of shadow on the floor.
She fell for hours. Or maybe for only a second. Time had lost all meaning. Blinding light flared into being and her hands flew up to shield her eyes. Every sound, every breath was echoed back to her tenfold. The shadowed hallway had vanished and in its place a round room of mirrors rose, each shiny surface reflecting back a different piece of her soul. A different part of history. A different Clarke.
The Clarke in the first mirror sobbed fat tears which ran down her cheeks like small rivers. She was six years old and sat beneath a tree she had been climbing, her legs bent out at odd angles, both femurs fractured. A young Jake Griffin gingerly picked up that Clarke and the two disappeared from view…
And into the next mirror where he handed that version of Clarke her first broom. She whizzed around the field for a minute or two before faceplanting into the dirt. He had laughed and she had been so mad at his laughter then. But she wasn't mad anymore. Instead, his young smile pierced her soul.
Clarke spun and looked into the next mirror where a slightly older, angrier version of herself screamed at her father. They'd just had a blowout fight, but she couldn't remember what it was about. She couldn't remember.
The pair faded and she looked into another mirror, another image, another Clarke: her first year at school. His conspiratorial smile when she'd walked into his classroom.
Then another: her dad giving her a hard time about the boys at school. She'd laughed him off, like she usually did. She'd never even found the courage to tell him… he would never know.
Then another: him telling her about his lecturing trip. He'd be gone for a while. It had something to do with the project he'd been working on. But every word he had said had been a lie.
Clarke felt dizzy as she turned to the next mirror, head spinning from the weight of the memories displayed before her. In this one, a familiar memory played out… the same one she had replayed in the back of her mind for the past five months. The same one she both tried to forget and tried to remember. Had his name been MacNabb? Auror MacNabb? She couldn't recall, but she did remember his cold, impassive eyes and his professional, curt tone when he told her Jake Griffin was dead.
"What are you doing?!" the motion in the mirror was frantic as a nearly identical Clarke shouted. A team of unknown men had shown up at Durmstrang and the news had spread like wildfire. She thought her dad would be among them. She thought he had come home, but when she rushed to his office all she found were strangers tearing apart every untouched piece she had left of him.
"Stop! What are you doing?!" Clarke screamed as they ransacked her father's apartment.
"MacNabb, get her out of her," one of the men had barked and an eagle-faced man had dragged her out of the room.
She clawed and scratched at him, but he didn't budge. His voice was monotone, unfeeling, uncaring when he told her that the man she'd known was gone. Her father had been an Auror. He had lived a double life for the protection of those he loved while serving his fellow wizards. He had died nobly, died well, died for the cause, died rooting out dark wizards.
The scene fell to pieces in the mirror and drifted away like smoke. Only one mirror in this strange reflective tower still played. Like all the rest, it showed Clarke and her father; they sat before a roaring hearth, having just finished a game of chess. Jake tossed a tiny silk bag over to her and smiled at her confusion. The Clarke in the mirror pulled a pendant out of the delicate fabric. The same necklace she wore now, the one she never took off.
Her father had given it to her before he'd died… No, Clarke shook her head. That wasn't right. She'd worn this necklace for as long as she could remember. He'd given it to her ages ago. Like her memory, the last mirror flickered between two opposing truths; unable to make up its mind, it showed a Clarke as she was now and then a much younger version.
Tears pooled in her eyes as Clarke watched the image glitch. She couldn't remember. This was her fault. She couldn't even remember this one detail which like all the rest were slipping away with the passage of time.
The beating of wings drew Clarke's gaze away from the broken mirror. A crow hopped in the center of this strange hall, a blot of darkness in a sea of light. It cocked its head, turning a beady, black eye towards her. It seemed to peer through her, searching. For what? The distant sound of drums echoed in Clarke's ears, throbbing, pulsating. She gasped as shadows licked at her bare feet once more, rising higher and higher, slowly quenching the light. No. She wasn't done. She wasn't finished.
Clarke's eyes darted back to the last mirror trying to memorize the curve of her father's face. The spark in his eyes. But the inky shadows now lapped against her hips, against her belly. She reached out towards the mirror, towards her father. The Jake Griffin in the frosted glass hung the necklace around her reflection as it oscillated between ten and sixteen. He smiled softly, sadly. "You're my sun, Clarke. Never forget that." His startlingly blue eyes found hers. Not the Clarke in the mirror, but the one outside and the words died on his lips even as the shadows consumed her.
"Ahhhhh!" Pain like Clarke had never known hammered into the back of her skull . Her hands flew to her head as if she might tear it open and release whatever pressure was building inside.
"Shut the hell up, Griffin!" someone shouted from across the room.
"You shut up, Echo," another voice hissed. Clarke could barely hear them over the drumming of her own blood. It felt like every ounce of fluid in her body had been deposited in her brain and if she didn't do something her skull would crack open and every thing that made her human would just slip out.
"Clarke?" She felt the bed shift as a weight pressed down against her mattress. She whimpered when the movement shifted her. "Clarke? Are you okay?"
She tried to snort at the stupid question, but all the came out was another gasp. "Do... I look... Okay?"
"Fair point. Well made." The lilt was definitely Emori's.
Clarke groaned.
"Clarke?" Emori repeated her name more insistently.
"Just... Just give me a minute."
"Can you two kindly shut the hell up? Some of us are still trying to sleep!" Echo's growl was feral from the other side of the room.
"Oh, stop being such a bitch," Emori snapped back. "Your alarm is going to go off any minute."
The weight lifted off of Clarke's bed as the two continued to argue. Their voices raised over the sound of the clock chiming eight o'clock, over the trill of Echo's own alarm, over the staccato of Clarke's labored breathing. The room swelled, becoming a mess of noises and voices as people began to dress for the day. Clarke tried to block it all out, but her mental barriers lay shattered by the throbbing pain in her skull. Minutes passed. The room began to empty.
"Sure you're okay?" Emori asked once more, her shadowy figure outlined by the door.
Clarke gave a small, fractured nod of her head. A single click sounded as the door closed and then a resounding quiet filled the space. She lay back with her eyes twisted shut, counting each inhalation a victory.
By the time she could open her eyes without splitting pain, well over an hour had passed and Clarke was sure that she had missed breakfast. It hardly mattered though; she didn't think she could even stomach toast at the moment. Not with the bitter taste of the past still so fresh in her mouth.
Clarke swallowed, moving gingerly about the dormitory as she tried to dress herself. When she was clothed and had finally managed to tie the green silk around her neck, the clock struck a quarter to ten. Her Defence Against the Dark Arts class started in fifteen minutes. She would have to hurry to make it on time. Hurry. What a joke. Even the thought of rushing brought back the loud drumming in her head.
Still, she moved out of the dungeons as fast as her sluggish brain would allow. One step. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sun. You'll always be my sun, Clarke.
The necklace she always wore seemed to burn hot against her skin… or was it her skin that burned? Clarke didn't know or care. She barely saw the students who passed her or the stairs beneath her feet. Dreams clouded her vision. Nightmares. The world seemed to have a sheen to it. As if she still lay beneath the weight of her down comforter. As if she still slept. Her body felt heavy and weightless at the same time.
This isn't real. None of this is real, Clarke thought as her eyes stung. Not Hogwarts. Not her mother. Not the crowd which surged around her, a clamering of students rushing to their first class of the day. What day? What day was it? What year? What was the last real thing she remembered?
Clarke was falling, falling, falling down a gaping, endless pit. A tunnel of darkness, blackness… of impenetrable obsidian. And there was nothing, nothing, nothing to hold onto, nothing real to keep her from that inevitable fall. Nothing but that horrible drumming in her head.
Clarke's stomach dropped as the world tilted on its axis and her arms flailed out for balance… too late. She careened into the wall of the first floor corridor and retched. But nothing came out even as her insides heaved. Her vision blurred and flashed with blinding light at the insistent, pulsing pain in her head.
"Hey! Are you oka-" the voice halted abruptly. Then a sharp inhale, "Costia?"
Clarke didn't know what the voice - that voice - was saying; it didn't make any sense, but the soft timbre of it pulled her slowly from the darkness. Her watery eyes lifted to the soft planes of a feminine face haloed by honey-brown hair. A name swam forward from the depths of her muddled consciousness. Lexa.
The girl's light green eyes were blown wide, but when Clarke turned to face her they cleared and a flush spread across the girl's creamy skin.
"Sorry- You just- You looked- With you hair down- Sorry. It doesn't matter. Are you okay?" The girl - Lexa - finished her earlier question. She had knelt down beside Clarke so that she was eye-level with where the Slytherin had crumpled.
Clarke's head pounded as she tried to find the words. "It's my- I can't- my head."
"Migraine, huh?" The brunette smiled in a friendly way and something about the curve of her lips made Clarke's breadth catch. "I get those sometimes. Real pain. May I?"
She was pointing her wand at Clarke's head. There was a moment of pure panic which flashed hot through Clarke's body. Her hand twitched defensively towards her own wand… then she comprehended slowly that the action was not hostile. She tried to laugh, taking in the questioning look on the Gryffindor's face. It couldn't hurt to have help.
"Do your worst," Clarke urged gruffly.
Lexa smirked and Clarke's eyes darted to the girl's lips as they parted to whisper a spell. Sweet, cool relief flooded the Slytherin's head and she actually felt each muscles relax in turn. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
"Better?"
"Yeah," Clarke exhaled, blinking. "Thanks."
Lexa gave her a hand and pulled Clarke to her feet, "Don't mention it. It's a Gryffindor thing… the chivalry, I mean."
"I like it," the words escaped Clarke's lips before her mind fully recovered.
The brunette's brows shot up and she barked out a laugh, her green eyes grazing over Clarke. "Bellamy didn't tell me you were funny."
She flushed. Right. Lexa was Bellamy's friend.
"Yeah, well he doesn't know everything about me."
"I certainly hope not."
They stared at each other and for some inexplicable reason Clarke felt her cheeks grow warm at the inspection.
"Oh you-" Lexa's hand reached towards her then hesitated. She cleared her throat, "You missed a button."
Clarke looked down and then quickly back up as she felt the shadow of her migraine rise again. Her brows furrowed. "Uh, it's fine."
"Here," Lexa stepped closer and her slender fingers nimbly fastened the forgotten button. Clarke's breath stalled for a fraction of a second as she stared at the Gryffindor. Lexa's eyes were the most vivid green she had ever seen, like pools of water in some forest grotto, or fresh moss, or the stem of a lily, or…
"Right, well-" Lexa stepped back. Again that tick of clearing her throat. "Class. Are you headed to Defense?"
Clarke nodded and then blurted out, "Thanks. Again."
"Don't mention it," Lexa tossed her that trademark smirk. "Gryffindor, remember?"
But Clarke thought the excuse didn't ring quite as true as the first time Lexa said it. They walked down the hallway in a strange silence, one that made Clarke glance more than a few times at the other girl to try and read her expression. However, the Gryffindor was still a mystery to Clarke by the time they had entered the classroom together.
Clarke felt her cheeks flush for the third time that day as everyone's heads swiveled to see who was late. Indra pursed her lips at the pair, but said nothing and turned back to the assembled crowd. Lexa grinned and winked at Clarke, as if the silence between them had never existed, before heading off to join the other members of her house. The Slytherin forced herself not to stare after the strangely bewitching girl and instead bee-lined for Emori and Echo. The latter of the two gave her a death glare that Clarke felt certain had been in place all morning.
The classroom looked larger than usual as if it had been magically expanded. More bodies filled the space than she had ever seen in any of her previous Defense classes. In fact, as Clarke looked around she realized that it was not simply Slytherins and Gryffindors who were present, or even the entire Sixth Year class, but all of the houses for both Fifth and Sixth Years.
The desks and benches that usually filled the room had vanished, leaving plenty of space for the students to occupy. The large windows which stretched all the way to the ceiling were exposed, their heavy curtains drawn back to let in the morning light.
When Clarke squeezed in next to Emori, the girl flashed her a quick, questing smile which Clarke returned reassuringly.
"Welcome everyone," Indra's commanding voice resonated throughout the large room. "Please, do get comfortable."
Clarke's eyes roved around the room and its alterations with equal suspense and curiosity. She found her gaze being drawn back to Lexa and was surprised to find a different pair of eyes staring at her, darker eyes of deep brown. Clarke looked away quickly, but not before she caught the questioning tilt of Bellamy's head. She pretended to ignore the pair of them even though she could see their animated discussion out of the corner of her vision. The two weren't even paying attention to class. Clarke's stomach dropped as Bellamy broke away from his friend.
"Now I'm sure all of you are-" Indra's voice trailed off as Bellamy marched across the classroom. He seemed oblivious to the blatant stares of both students and professor. Or perhaps he just doesn't care? The Professor's eyes narrowed.
"Hey," he stopped beside her still oblivious. His dark gaze roved up and down her form as if to check for any abnormalities. His shoulders loosened when he seemed to register than she was fine… physically at least.
"Hey yourself," Clarke snapped back. "You're making a scene."
"Are you quite done, Mr. Blake?" Indra's steely voice rang out from behind the Gryffindor.
"Yes, Professor," he answered without turning around. Bellamy gave the Fifth Year boy to Clarke's left a tight smile before shuffling in next to her.
Indra's eyes sparked challengingly, "Excellent, then let us continue."
"What are you doing?" Clarke hissed at him without turning her head.
"Lexa said you were sick."
"Well, Lexa talks too much."
Clarke's retort was lost as the professor once again addressed the class, "Now, I'm sure many of you are wondering why I've combined the Fifth and Sixth Years' Defense Classes. It is unusual; however, in light of recent events, the Headmaster and myself believe it would be best if all of you mastered practical ways to defend yourself."
"You mean your going to teach of us how to duel?" an excited Fifth Year spoke up, but Bellamy barely spared him a second glance. He sideyed Clarke trying to see if there was anything he'd missed in his initial appraisal. She did seem paler than normal. There were bags under her eyes that he hadn't noticed before. Her hair… her hair wasn't up in its usual bun or braid. It fell in soft platinum waves around her face. Bellamy forced his gaze back to the excited Fifth Year.
"You're quite right, Mr. Evans. However, I urge you all to not get ahead of yourselves. We will be starting with defensive spells first. The ability to defend yourself will always be more important than your ability to attack others."
"This is about Atom, isn't it?" It was Octavia who spoke up this time. Bellamy's eyes darted to her and he felt a pang of guilt for the harsh way he'd spoken to Atom the last time they talked. But he couldn't have known… There was no way to know.
"Yes, Ms. Blake. You are correct," Indra replied.
"Have they heard anything else?"
"Do they know where he went?"
"What happened to him?" Questions started to flood the room from every corner, swelling with increasing ferocity.
"You know everything I do, I'm afraid," Indra stated calmly. "As Headmaster Jaha explained the other night, we do not know why Atom has left us. Only that he has. The proper authorities have been contacted and the Headmaster is communicating with the boy's family. Hopefully, we will know more soon. Now, please, the goal of this class is to help all of you be more prepared, more vigilant, more capable. So I need your absolute attention to be in this classroom."
The room fell silent as her strong voice rebounded off the walls. No one spoke, but students still shuffled restlessly. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do for now.
The professor continued, "Let us begin. Start by turning to the person beside you… They are now your partner for the foreseeable future. You will practice in and outside of class with this person. As your final exam for this term, you and your partner will be tested against another pair. Is that clear?"
Bellamy watched as Clarke swiveled slowly to look at him. Her expression was one of mild annoyance and was not unfamiliar to the Gryffindor, but he could tell she wasn't actually mad.
Bellamy grinned, "Hey, partner."
"Oh, shut up," she shook her head at him.
He glanced swiftly back at Lexa who gave him an irritated eyebrow raise. He had promised he would partner with her for their next Defense project… Bellamy shrugged his shoulders by way of an apology, but she just rolled her eyes and he knew she would have some choice words for him later.
Indra's voice rang out above the murmur of students, "Find space around the room. Face off. We're going to start with a series of defensive spells. You should all know Protego by now, but I would like you to master its many forms. The sustained shield, the rebounded shield, and the mobile shield. Begin."
Bellamy backed up and turned to face Clarke as a chorus of 'protego' filled the air.
He raised his wand, "She was just trying to be helpful, you know?"
"Who?" Clarke raised her own wand.
"Lexa."
"Oh, yeah." Clarke's cheeks reddened. "It's fine. I just had a rough morning."
"It's only 10 A.M."
"Shut up, Blake. I'm trying to cast a damn shield spell and you're distracting me."
He sniggered even as he cast his own milky white dome over himself. Hers bloomed equally fast.
"The sustained shield is most helpful on oneself," Indra stalked around the room, weaving between the pairs and giving tips as she went. "You can cast and holds its protection for a prolonged period of time. And when you become more advanced you can even make an independent, temporary shield, like an invisible ward, which will remain in place while you switch to offense. But… I doubt any of you are quite at that level yet."
Clarke snorted, "This is child's play."
"Big words, Griffin, but your shield is wavering."
"I told you I had a bad morning."
"Excuses," Bellamy smirked, teasing her.
"While the rebounded shield is particularly good for redirecting curses away from oneself, the mobile shield will enable you to protect something or someone outside of your immediate radius. Try focusing on your partner and imagine casting a protective net around them as you say the incantation. Yes, like that Trikru. Good."
Bellamy raised his wand and tried to focus on what Indra had saying, but his eyes darted back to his best friend. His stomach dropped as he saw that Lexa and Octavia had been paired. He supposed when he had moved towards Clarke, his absence must have inadvertently left them side by side. Neither looked happy. He cringed knowing that he would being getting an earful from both of them later.
He attempted to project the mobile shield on Clarke even as she did the same to him. To his increased annoyance and admiration, she seemed to have no trouble despite her bad morning. Her shield shimmered around him effortlessly while his flickered pitifully around her blonde tresses. He really had to stop staring at her hair.
"Bloody hell!" A crash and a muttered oath sounded from the other side of the room. The classroom paused as Lexa righted herself out of the steel arms of a crumpled suit of armor into which she had crashed. Her expression was murderous.
"Ms. Blake," Professor Indra called sternly. "There is a difference between a mobile shield and a rebounded shield. Try not to rebound your partner."
Bellamy watched as Lexa squared off against Octavia again and had to consciously fight the urge to jump in and mediate the two. He really needed to let them figure it out on their own even if it went against his nature. He'd been intervening all summer and it hadn't helped.
"You're not concentrating hard enough," Clarke's voice brought him back to their side of the room. "That's why your shield is flickering."
He snorted, "Tell me something I don't know, Princess."
She glared right through him at the nickname. He wasn't sure why he still used it. They were passed all that, really. But there was something about the way her eyes sparked when he said it. The icy blue flared to life and he felt like, even just for a moment, he was staring at something more real and honest than either one of them knew how to be on their own. Plus, it left him a little breathless. The way her eyes caught fire and burned. He forgot how to breathe or what air even tasted like.
"You're still not concentrating."
He raised his eyes to the ceiling briefly and swallowed, "I know."
A few pairs over, Raven's smirk turned into a sneer as she backed away from her partner. Of all the people in the class, she had to be stuck with-
"Come on, Reyes. I know you can do better than that. Aren't Ravenclaws supposed to be smart?" Murphy drawled lazily as her milky shield fluttered then dissolved into thin air.
"I guess I'm just having trouble finding the motivation to protect you. Murphy."
"Tsk. Tsk. What happened to the rational, practical tenants of Ravenclaw? This is just a class and I'm just another student."
"You're a fucking cockroach is what you are," Raven muttered under her breath as her newest attempt at a mobile shield deteriorated. God, she hated him and his insipid, pasty face.
"What did you call me?"
"A cockroach," she snapped. "I called you a cockroach, Murphy."
He chuckled darkly, "I love it when you get feisty. Really gets me going."
"Ugh, you're disgusting. You have a girlfriend, asshole. She's literally right over there."
"So?" He cocked his head to the side. "She knows I just do it to ruffle your feathers, Raven."
She glared daggers at him and flicked her wand with one subtle movement of her wrist. The instrument stayed by her side, its motion barely perceptible, but Murphy's eyes widened and he shifted on his feet.
"Cut it out, Reyes."
"What was that?"
"I said cut it out!" His voice rose as he started to dance on to the balls of his feet… almost as if he was standing on hot coals. Another flick of her wand and he relaxed, but perspiration still shone brightly on his forehead.
"How do your feather feel now, Murphy? Ruffled enough?"
"Bitch," he spat out. Not loud enough for anyone else to hear but her. Raven grinned.
"Mr. Murphy," Indra's sharp voice rang out from a few rows down as she approached the two. "Why haven't you practiced your shield spell yet?"
"I was just trying to be a gentleman, Professor. I know how eager Ravenclaws are to show off."
"How thoughtful of you," Indra's voice held dry sarcasm. "Next time follow my instructions and try not to think so much."
Murphy's pale skin flushed a satisfying shade of fuschia. He turned back to Raven and raised his wand as the professor stalked off to another pair. His brows pushed together.
Raven inspected her cuticles, "If you're trying to get even, Murphy, don't bother. I've had a sustained shield around myself since we started."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Reyes," he sneered as a thin silver dome enveloped her and then disintegrated. Raven's skin crawled. He had managed to hold the shield longer than her. She wanted to hex his face off.
Instead she glanced around the room to check everyone else's progress with the spell. Harper and Monty seemed less focused on casting a shield than they were on making mooneyes at each other. Jasper was with some Fifth Year Hufflepuff. Raven had seen the girl a few times with Harper and remembered that her name was Maya. Jasper was flailing his arms and making the girl laugh so hard that her shield did little more than flicker. Raven snorted.
Raven's mind wandered as she and Murphy took turns practicing their shields, the repetition of the same spells getting old quickly. She wished the Seventh Years were training with them. Though no doubt they were learning far more advanced magic. Her skin itched just thinking about it. Maybe she would ask Indra if she could switch groups. Just for this assignment. Then she could duel with Roan. Now, that would be fun.
Raven's gaze fell on a head of blonde hair a few pairs over. Clarke. A dull ache still settled in her stomach when she looked at the Slytherin, but it was bearable.
"Gone mute, Reyes?" Murphy's annoying drawl brought her back.
"Just tired of listening to you whine, Murphy."
"Then it's good class is over, isn't it? Don't forget your list of spells to practice. I can't have you pulling my grade down." He jerked his head towards the chalkboard.
Raven scoffed, "As if that's even possible."
She threw him a rude gesture and made her way to the board without another word. After pulling out pen and paper, she hurriedly scribbled down the assignment. A flash of blonde caught her eye when she turned to leave. Before she could think about the ramifications, Raven was jogging after the Slytherin and shouting her name.
"Clarke! Wait up!"
The surprise and trepidation was written so clearly on the blonde's face that Raven almost laughed when she caught up to her. Almost.
"I…" The word trailed off as the other students brushed by the two, jostling them until they stood by the edge of hallway.
"Look, I…" Raven tried again, fighting the swell of embarrassment at the awkwardness of the situation. "I just wanted to say that you don't have to worry- you don't have to be afraid of me- I'm not going to-"
"I'm not afraid of you," the blonde blurted then bit her cheek as if to hold back whatever other words wanted to spill out.
Raven raised her eyebrows, "Okay, well, I just wanted to say that we're good. You and I."
The girl just kept staring at Raven with an inscrutable expression on her face, so Raven took the hint and began to walk off with a casual shrug.
"Why?"
The singular word stopped Raven short and she swung back around. "What?"
Clarke shook her head, blonde curls tossing, "I mean, I'm sorry, Raven I'm sorry… about everything."
"You already said that. In your letter."
"It wasn't really a letter."
Raven shrugged again, "It was enough."
She remembered the letter clearly. Just a slip of parchment with the three words 'I'm so sorry.' signed by a mysterious 'Clarke.' The note had been tied with black ribbon which held in place a small, silver figurine depicting a doe. It had been that piece of metal more than the written words which had tipped off Raven to Finn's cheating. The doe was identical in style and material to the silver crane he had made for her. More than that, Raven had seen it - the doe - nearly complete on the workbench in the shed. She'd thought it was another gift and it was… just not for her.
It stung. It still sting. But not as deep, not nearly as deep as before.
"I'm sorry," Clarke was saying again, though she had said it numerous times now.
Raven almost brushed it off, but then hesitated. There was something she wanted to know. A question that had nagged at her ever since finding out.
"Did you know? About me?"
"No," Clarke shook her head vehemently. "God, no."
"Then you have nothing to be sorry for. He played you as much as he played me."
"You- um… You make a great Ravenclaw," Clarke offered lamely. "You're very rational, I mean. I imagined this going very differently."
Raven snorted, "You should have seen me three months ago."
"I'm glad I didn't."
"Me too."
"So, we're good?" Clarke asked awkwardly. Raven could still clearly see the trepidation in her eyes.
"Yeah, Clarke. We're good." Raven offered the Slytherin a smile and found the action wasn't quite as hard as she thought it would be.
On the other side of the hall, Octavia paused, watching the pair. She had intended to walk with Raven to their next classes as the two usually did; however, when she saw the brunette barrel out after Clarke Griffin - the newest Slytherin Princess - her interest in waiting had severely decreased. The awkwardness oozed from the pair like a gaseous fog and Octavia wanted to be nowhere near if it combusted.
If things went south, she'd probably hex Clarke into oblivion for her friend and then she'd have to deal with an irate Bellamy. Octavia didn't know what was so fascinating about the new girl that had everyone - including her brother's - knickers in a twist. The blonde acted so haughty and arrogant, way too much trouble for Octavia's tastes. Plus, Clarke didn't appreciate the attention she was receiving. She didn't realize that it was a form of power. The girl was a terrible Slytherin.
Octavia threw Raven a wave when she caught the older girl's eyes and then headed off to her next class: Muggle Studies.
The day passed at an excruciatingly slow pace. It probably was like any other day, but each incidental run-in with Lincoln between her classes ratcheted Octavia's nerves up five levels.
He brushed by her in the hallway outside of the Transfiguration classroom. He lingered in the corridor long enough to flash her a smile before she started History of Magic. Barely a word passed between them, but the heat of his gaze and the gentle brush of his fingers against hers, as if by accident, had her stomach performing cartwheels. She couldn't focus. She couldn't think.
When she finally got out of Potions - her last class of the day - Octavia nearly tripped on the doorframe in her haste to exit the classroom. She couldn't remember what his last lecture was on Thursdays, but she would…
Her breath caught. Lincoln was standing right outside the door, his tall frame leant against the stone wall of the dungeon, hands shoved into his pockets as they so often were. A smile tugged at her lips.
"Waiting for someone?" she asked casually.
"Mm-hmm."
She arched her eyebrows and took as step closer, "Do I know her?"
"Yes."
Another step, "She must be a very lucky girl."
"Yes," he chuckled and his husky voice sent a shiver down Octavia's spine.
"That's your favorite word, isn't it?" She closed the distance between them. "Yes? Yes, yes, yes-"
Octavia laughed as he pulled her to him. Lincoln's head ducked down and he placed a soft kiss against her lips. She groaned in disappointed when he pulled back. One kiss wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
"Come on," she urged and her hand slipped easily into his as she led him out of the dim bowels of the castle.
He laced their fingers together as he followed her, tracing warm circles against her palm. Something deep inside her fluttered and clenched sweetly at his touch. She picked up the pace, nearly dragging them up the stairs. She couldn't wait. He couldn't wait.
Lincoln pulled her down an empty corridor on the third floor. They barely rounded the corner from the stairwell before Octavia felt her back pressed against the rough fabric of a tapestry. The threaded figure squawked at the assault, making Octavia jump as the shrill noise rang in her ears. Laughter burst from the Gryffindor as Lincoln picked her up and shifted them down the corridor to a blank, silent, stone wall.
The playful, mischievous look in Lincoln's eyes took her breath away. It was so different from his usual, stoic presence that the sight of it became precious to Octavia and stoked the embers in her belly.
His tongue slid against her lips, followed by his teeth which nipped gently, pulling at the plump flesh. Her heart stuttered in her chest and then caught fire. Octavia's lips surged forward to meet his, fingers gripping the smooth skin of his neck to pull him closer. He could never be close enough.
Lincoln ground his hips into hers and Octavia's eyes rolled back at the heady friction. She knew they were in a public hallway. She knew someone, anyone, could walk by at any moment… But she didn't care. She wanted Lincoln. She wanted him to fuck her against the wall, against the suits of armor, against the window, against the damn tapestry.
Some rational part of her brain that rarely existed knew the intensity of this should be frightening, but it wasn't. It wasn't. Holy founders…
Voices filtered to them down the corridor. The sconces on the walls had brightened and students were beginning to leave the library for dinner. But it was more than that. It was the one particularly deep voice that quenched every ounce of fire boiling inside Octavia. Bellamy's voice… Holy. Founders. No.
Octavia moved without thinking, shoving herself and Lincoln into the nearest unlocked door.
"What the-"
"Shh!"
Their ragged breathing sounded amplified in the pitch black of whatever room they had stumbled into. Octavia leaned against the door as she fumbled for her wand, but Lincoln beat her to it.
"Lumos."
Light flared from the tip of his wand illuminating their less than glamorous surroundings. A bucket of dirty water lay at their feet beside a ratty mop that had black spots which looked a little too much like mold. She had pushed them into an abandoned broom closet.
"Octavia," Lincoln breathed out. "What's going on?"
"Bell- my brother. He was coming down the hall."
Lincoln shook his head and smiled. "We could have just stopped kissing."
"No, Bellamy would know something was up. He's not stupid."
The smile fell from Lincoln's face. "Something was up…" he repeated her slowly. "You mean you haven't told him? About me- us? That we're… seeing each other?"
"Of course not," Octavia said easily. She hadn't even considered telling Bellamy for a second. She knew what he was like.
"Are you going to tell him?"
"No," she snorted. "I wouldn't even tell him if we had children in ten years."
Lincoln's voice became stony, "This isn't a joke, Octavia."
"Does it look like I'm laughing?" she snapped back. "You don't know my brother. Not like I-"
"Did you tell anyone? Any of your friends?"
Lie. Lie. Lie, her mind chanted and she meant to, but when Octavia opened her mouth the truth just slipped out. "No."
Lincoln sighed and ran a hand - his wand hand - over his face, making the light ricochet around their little closet. Octavia wanted to reach out, to touch him, to bring them back to where they'd been only ten minutes ago, but when she tried his shoulders stiffened.
"Octavia, I like you. A lot. I think we've established that. But I'm not a Fifth Year," Octavia stepped back as if she'd been slapped, but he continued, oblivious. "I don't want to just fool around in broom closets. I want to date you. And if you're embarrassed by me or don't feel comfortable telling your friends, your own brother, than maybe that isn't what you want too."
Her heart clenched. He didn't understand. It wasn't about him.
"Lincoln-" she put her hands up to stop him as he reached for the door handle behind her.
"Just… just let me know what you decide. Okay?" The words fell heavy between them and before she could say anything to ease the tension, he was gone. The small light in the closet winked out, leaving her in darkness.
Octavia groaned and slumped against the door, waiting a few minutes before making her own exit. She joined the crowd heading downstairs to dinner, even as her mind raced in loops. She didn't want to tell Bellamy. She knew how he would react. He would ruin it, like he ruined all her previous relationships. And this was different. Lincoln was different. He was infinitely more precious than anyone she had dated before. How could she show that to him? By doing what he asked you to do, her mind snapped at her.
Octavia huffed out a sigh as she reached the ground floor. Her eyes caught on Lexa where the older girl stood by the front door and her mood descended further still. After everything… and then earlier. Octavia cringed as she remembered Lexa flying back into a suit of armor in Defence class. It had been an accident. Well… mostly an accident. Like seventy percent an accident. Octavia considered apologizing, something she rarely did, but before she could take a step towards the older girl, Anya materialized out of the crowd and her desire to interrupt plummeted. Plus, she reasoned, the damage was done long before today.
"You ready?" Anya's lithe voice drew Lexa's attention. She smiled tightly at her girlfriend before giving her a quick kiss in greeting.
"What are we doing?" Lexa demanded. "You know I hate surprises."
"I know, I know! But… you had such a nice one for me last time and I wanted to do something special for you."
Lexa snorted. Anya was being generous. Her plan had been an epic disaster despite her meticulous organization beforehand.
"Okay, then," the Gryffindor tried to sound excited even though not knowing had her on edge. Lexa was used to pushing unwanted emotions aside, so she locked her anxiety in a tight metal box at the back of her mind.
The two walked outside onto the lawn. The sun had just set, bathing everything in a dusky purple glow. Storm clouds brewed just beyond the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.
"Are you sure…?"
"It'll be fine, come on!" Anya grasped Lexa's hand tightly and pulled her forward. The Gryffindor took a deep breath and, again, tried to relax, feeling the lid of that box crack open.
"Was your day as weird as mine? Indra had all the Seventh Years together for Defense. We're learning offensive spells for dueling now... since that kid disappeared."
"Can we not talk about the missing kid while we're walking outside in the dark?" Lexa's voice was as tight as the ache in her chest. She hadn't known Atom well, but she recognized his face and now he was gone. Just gone. How could someone disappear so quickly, so completely?
"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be fearless."
"I'm not afraid, Anya. Something just feels wrong about it, okay?"
"Okay. No need to bite my head off."
"Sorry," Lexa closed her eyes for a beat. "Defense was weird for us too. Indra had Fifth and Sixth Years together-"
"Fifth Years too?"
"Yeah. I got partnered with Octavia because Bellamy went fucking googly eyed when I told him Clarke wasn't feeling well."
Anya's hand tightened briefly around hers. The storm clouds were rolling closer.
"You saw Clarke?"
Lexa nodded, "Yeah, she almost fainted in the hallway. She had a migraine or something. Is she feeling better?"
"How would I know?"
Lexa reeled from the sharpness in Anya's voice. It was just a question.
"I mean, I thought- I thought the two of you were close-"
"We're not," the Slytherin said firmly. "We're not close."
"Okay," Lexa offered, but it didn't help. The air between them still crackled with tension and she didn't know why.
They had barely made it halfway onto the lawn when the storm clouds broke overhead. Fat droplets of rain fell in heavy sheets, soaking the two. Anya pulled on Lexa's hand and they ran for the closest shelter.
The first bolt of lightning split the sky as they clambered into the glass-paned greenhouse. The electric blue light brought the botanical menagerie to life for a brief moment and then plunged them into darkness.
"Damn it!" Anya cursed, dropping Lexa's hand. The Gryffindor's skin felt cold and clammy from the rain and the electricity in the air made the hair on her arms stand on end. The scuff of boots against gravel met Lexa's ears and with the next bolt of lightning, she saw that Anya was pacing back and forth with a hand in her hair. The girl looked wrecked.
"Hey, hey," Lexa tried to reach for her in the darkness. "It's okay."
"No, it's not okay! I had everything planned. It was going to be perfect."
Lexa found her blindly and pulled the older girl into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around the Slytherin's slim waist.
"You can't control the weather, Anya."
"It was going to be perfect," she repeated quietly.
"Don't be upset," Lexa murmured against her girlfriend's hair. She wasn't good at comforting people. She knew that. It always made her uneasy. But Lexa tried her best now to emulate what she saw other people do. She stroked Anya's back in smooth, slow movements. "It's okay. Don't be upset."
Then because she couldn't help herself, Lexa asked, "Why does this matter so much to you?"
Anya stiffened in her arms, but then sighed, "I just wanted it to be perfect. I needed it to be perfect."
"Well, I don't need it to be perfect. This is just fine for me." Lexa said the words Anya needed to hear. And Lexa believed them to be true… at least she felt like they were… or they could be. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the greenhouse. The rain clattered noisily against the glass room, broken by the thunder rumbling overhead.
Anya shook her head and mumbled something. Something barely intelligible about how they needed this. But it was the last words that caused Lexa's heart to clench. They were true, those three words, and the truth of them silenced her. Lexa didn't know what else to say or do so she let the words hang between them, creating space even though their bodies were pressed together. You don't understand. Lexa locked those three words away in that small metal box, along with her anxiety and all the other things she wasn't allowed to feel.
The storm sounded distant and soothing from within the walls of the Gryffindor common room. It had been raging outside for a few hours now and seemed to have no intention of stopping anytime soon. The fire crackled happily in the hearth, sending orange light over the already warm tones of the decor. The room seemed cozy and perfect to Raven as she snuggled closer to Roan's warm chest.
He hummed deeply at the contact and the noise sent a pleasant vibration down Raven's spine. One of his hands played lazily with the ends of her hair. If it were earlier in the day, she might have swatted his hand away, but right now it actually felt quite nice. Nearly everyone had gone to bed and Raven knew she should be heading back to her own bed soon… but not just yet. She was too warm and the storm outside was too soothing and his hands were doing marvelous things.
Roan's broad fingers brushed featherlight touches across her shoulders and down her arms in an almost absent-minded fashion. The innocent caresses were igniting embers within her, embers that wanted to catch fire and die in a blaze of glory.
Raven half-hummed, half-sighed as his knuckles grazed over the side of her breast in his perusal of her arm. She felt more relaxed than she had in weeks, in months really. An invisible weight had been lifted off of her shoulders when she talked to Clarke. It had been awkward, but inevitable. Almost like the passing of a train on the tracks. Raven had known it was coming and when the train finally arrived, the rush of wind it brought with it had frightened her. She had been afraid of being sucked into that dark space between the train and the tracks and that fear could have consumed her. But she didn't let it and the train passed. She was still standing. A weight had been lifted.
A small smile played at the corner of Raven's mouth, turning the edges skyward. She twisted in Roan's arms to look at him. His hand stilled against her shoulder as her brown eyes clashed with the palest blue of his. They had fallen into each other comfortably. She hadn't expected anything to come of it, but the fire she felt between them was too intense to be mistaken. She'd taken things slowly. Given herself time to assess whether she was ready, ready to move past Finn in any tangible way. Raven knew that when she had sex with Roan it would be more than just casual. They weren't a couple by any means, but there was something between them that was more substantial than the alternative. She felt it pulsating in every interaction as easily as she felt the warmth of the hearth fire.
His blue-grey eyes watched her as she stared him, content to let her observe him in that rational, Ravenclaw way she had. It didn't bother him, which was nice. It had always made Finn nervous.
She leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and pressed her lips slowly against his. Once. Twice. Three times. She took her time with the third kiss, coaxing, pulling his bottom lip away from the other. Then she leaned back and observed him again. His eyes had darkened by miles and his pupils were blown out like stars. She smiled slyly at his response and shifted against him.
Air forced its way through his clenched teeth, hissing, as their hips rubbed together.
"I thought you wanted to wait," he whispered huskily.
"I'm done waiting," Raven hummed against his lips. "I want you. Here. Now. Is that gonna be a problem?"
Roan shook his head, smirking, "You had me at 'I'm done waiting.'"
"Then shut up and kiss me."
"Yes, ma'am."
She leaned in for another slow kiss, but he nipped at her lips.
"Not literally here. Come on." He stood and pulled Raven with him, all but dragging them up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.
"Shh," he whispered as they crept past the room's other sleeping occupants. Someone snored in the corner.
Raven kicked off her shoes and rolled into his four-poster. He pulled the curtains closed behind them, casting his grinning face into darkness. Raven quickly raised her wand and muttered a silencing spell. One could never be too careful. Their ragged breathing filled the enclosed air as they both hastily shucked their clothes. It was like trying to peel off a second skin with their two bodies taking up the limited space. But in a matter of seconds, lightly peppered kisses, and a few bumps of their head they both sat naked in his bed.
Her eyes adjusted slowly to the dimness inside the four-poster. The flickering of the lightning outside was just a faint shadow here, illuminating Roan's face with inconsistent, obstructed light.
Nervousness bubbled to the surface, but it was met with a thrill of excitement as he reached out and pulled her down on top of his silken sheet. The smell of him surrounded her, claiming every one of her senses. It was the smell of pine, brown sugar, bonfires, and something else, something metallic and masculine. Her head spun with it as his lips found hers in the partial darkness.
He kissed a trail of teasing, tonguing, caresses down her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. Sweet, exquisitely sharp, pleasure spiked in her nipples as he paid homage to each one, a man starved for thirst. She arched off the mattress, gasping, as he explored lower, lower, lower still. He kissed the inside of each thigh tenderly. She almost whimpered when he pulled away, but held the noise in by sheer willpower. His face was set in subtle contrast as he reared back to look at her sprawled naked on his mattress.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," he cursed softly, his words uttered like a prayer or a blessing.
Raven's stomach clenched and heat pooled between her legs at the intensity of his gaze. He was going to devour her.
Her breath hitched as he dove back down between her legs. Then she really did whimper as the heat of his mouth clamped over her core. Her head tossed to the side, her breath became heavy, stilted. A hand fisted his hair. A hand fisted the sheets as he devoured her. As he sucked, and nipped, and licked, bringing her higher, higher, higher until the world shattered in a crack of lightning, in a boom of thunder, in the smoldering fire which burned inside of her, the same fire which lived inside his eyes.
Raven tried to breathe, tried to think as he kissed his way back up her body, stopping at her lips. She tasted herself on him. It felt erotic and sensual and she couldn't help the deep laugh which bubbled up inside her.
"I hope you have a condom."
"Of course I have a condom."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
He echoed her laugh and it was a deep, rich laugh that made her toes curl. She knew this would be different. Different than anything she's had with Finn. Roan didn't know her body, didn't know exactly how she liked to be touched, to be fucked, to be made love to… but this was different. It had already been different. It was new and exciting and they would learn. They would learn together.
A/N: If you enjoy this story, please review and tell me what you think! I love hearing your reactions. They give me fuel to keep going!